The Spoked Traveller | ...connecting cyclists to local trails, food and adventures.
Trails and advice cycling around the world as solo female cyclist and adventurer
mountain bike, adventure travel, cycling travel, bike tours, outdoor, solo travel, female mountain biking, badass female cycling, female travellers, women travel, adventurous
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The Spoked Traveller

…connecting cyclists to local trails,

food and adventures.

It never occurred to me to leave my bike at home on my first overseas trip. Twenty years later, nothing has changed. Whether at home, or in a foreign country, riding makes me feel closer to people and places.

I created this site as a hub for all things cycling; it’s a celebration of bike culture. Where to travel next, how to travel, where to get advice, see some cool practical bike fashion, what to eat. I’ll share what I know; and I invite you to do the same.

Over the next few months keep checking in as I’ll be adding some new menu items.

See you on the trails. Melanie

I know more about Italy's culture and hiking than I do about my own backyard. So, I am heading north: drive to Tobermory, take the two hour Chicheemaun ferry to Manitoulin Island then Killarney Park to hike two "difficult" trails: The Crack (6km) and Proulx Lake (12km). But more than that I am jumping into Tom Thomson turf. Thomson is an iconic Canadian landscape painter--who was never a member of the famous Group of Seven--little tid bit I learned. Thomson died a mysterious death in Algonquin Park. He drowned, but the circumstances surrounding it are still undiscovered. Just began reading, Tom Thomson, Artist of the North, by Wayne Larsen. In the next week, I will post pictures of my adventure up north; as well, I will outline where to find info if you're considering the same Canadian voyage.

I love the cafe culture in Bosnia and nowhere is this more alive than the old town in Sarajevo. I went back to the same pizza place two nights in a row to people watch. As I finished off my second glass of red, the blond waitress brought me over a third: "this is on us." I found out she was from Zagreb-- in my opinion already a really cool city. "This city is so alive and creative," she says.

I was feeling a bit lost when I returned to Kalpic in Croatia. Travelling alone for almost two and a half months gets to a girl after a while. I had already gathered enough research in Istria, northern Croatia, for a few stories so the last week was open. "Sarajevo is such a mix of cultures," says Ivana.  I booked one night; it turned into three. I have never been to a place that has effected me more. I will try to explain why. The Old Town called Bascarsija.

In a quiet cathedral in Sorrento Italy, 5-year-old Harry Poitras drops to his knees in the pew, clasps his hands, and prays: “Please God, make there be something besides spaghetti and pizza on the menu.” Luckily, gladiator school, biking in Borghese Park in Rome, making homemade pasta and playing in seaside playgrounds make Italy an affordable and historical trip with bambinos.

ok--sorry for delay. Having too much fun. Forgive me. Since I last posted, I have biked the highest mountain in southern Croatia (St. Juve 1,700 meters in Biovoko Park);         Along the paved road 23 kilometers of steep switchbacks, which took me THREE HOURS, there are stone homes from about 1,000 years ago--farmers. Amazing.

Ok, that is an ominous title, but yes, myself and a Welsh girl I met were certainly stuck on a mountain rock face in Croatía's Paklenica National Park (southern end of the Velebit massif above town of Starigrad). Long story short, and I will provide details, but we took a wrong turn and started climbing the rock climbing trail --not the hiking trail. We climbed three rock faces, teetered on rock ledges, up hand width crevices and flat rock using only wire rope attached to the rock. It was the third one, when Emma's legs were shaking, that she decided to call the police. "Mel, I can't do it. I can't go any farther." I looked down, at the rock face and rope --attached to the rock we just climbed. I thought to myself, well we certainly can't go back. So, there we were, on a rock ledge facing the ocean. Stuck. The conversation played out something like this: